


A Pleasure

by TessMooreXF



Category: The Fall (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 02:26:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3157724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TessMooreXF/pseuds/TessMooreXF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How it ends.</p><p>**NOW COMPLETE**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Embarrassment

"Is this seat taken?"

She's beside him suddenly. More suddenly than he has time to prepare for, and Jim finds himself averting his gaze to his glass. The double is amber, sweet, and deep. He's barely touched it. He can smell her as she swishes onto the barstool next to him. Her scent has always been clean and sweet, but not floral. Come to think of it, Jim can't pinpoint a single thing about Stella Gibson that one could describe as flowery. 

"What are you doing here, Stella?" He risks a glance at her. She's waving the bartender over with a practiced wave. She has a certain flair; It's what he first noticed about her, years earlier. 

She has none of his same hesitation, and her eyes latch onto his, magnets drawing him in. In the dim bar, they're a mossy green and inviting. Captivating. "You thought I was going to sneak out of here without a goodbye? You don't know me very well, then." 

Jim scoffs, knocking back a swig of his drink. He doesn't look at her while she orders from the bartender. "Scotch, single, neat." It's all she says. 

"Goodbye... Did you really come here to say goodbye, Stella? Or to taunt me? Remind me of my own horrors?" 

Sipping her drink, Stella is unperturbed by Jim's words, watching him in her careful, steady way. 

"I came here to discuss that, actually." She looks down at her own drink. For the first time, Jim notices that she wears a pair of casual slacks and a thin sweater. No leather or silk to be found. He likes it. "You're my friend, Jim." 

Jim's eyebrows rise. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

Stella sips again, but holds his gaze. "It means... that I don't have many people I would dare to call friends. I've been cruel to you, before. Needlessly cruel."

"Friends don't sexually assault one another, Stella." Jim feels his chest sink at his own words. Under the weight of his own self-loathing. "But I need to know. Do you really think I would have... hurt you?" 

Stella weighs his question while his eyes examine her face further. He can see her brow knitting tight while she thinks; While she chooses her words very carefully. "I certainly hope not."

It's not the answer he wants. His mind reels in response, running over their previous conversation in sick detail. Could she really think him capable of unspeakable violence against her? In this moment, he wonders at why he contacted Stella in the first place. He can't help but ask, "Why won't you consider me?"

Stella cocks her head at him. "For what? For a lover, a husband... a weekend drinking buddy?" 

Jim finds himself chuckling. "All of the above." 

Stella smiles back. "I'm drinking with you now. You're married." She hesitates. "I've had you for a lover. I'm not what you want, Jim." 

He knocks back the rest of his drink. His glass comes back to the bar in a crash, and he stares at his wedding band. "I can't think of any single thing I want more than to make love to you, Stella." 

"Can you honestly say that you're in love with me? Or are you in love with the idea of me? I've seen what I do to you - that drink in your hand..."

Jim stops her. "You have nothing to do with that! It's goddamned Eastwood and his meddling." 

Stella stops him with a glare. "I've seen what you've done to your wife, Jim. You knew you were a married man when you chose to spend a night with me. I didn't. What about her? Could you really substitute her... warmth. Her love? Your children? With the English, ice queen bitch?" 

"I would never think those things of you." He sputters. 

"I know better than that, Jim. I'm not a homemaker. I won't put dinner on the table and clean up after your children. I won't take care of you. I told you before - I see the way you look at me. With such fear. Why do I scare you?" 

Running his hand through his hair, Jim studies her again. He feels he could never tire of watching her, whether she scares him or not. "Because you drive me crazy. You push my buttons, you disrespect me, you pester me. Because I can't have you. But I can't manage to stay away, either. I should tell you... I read the diary."

Stella sips calmly, then clears her throat. She swirls the glass in her hand while she absorbs the news. "I expected as much." 

"Is that all you really have to say?" Jim goes to raise his hand for the bartender, but he's stopped. Stella reaches for the hand, placing it back on the bar. 

"What? Am I supposed to be embarrassed?" She challenges him. 

Jim's eyes crinkle in confusion. "I thought you were upset about it being read. Lost to you - those were your words." 

There's a bit of fire in her eyes. Jim knows she loves an argument - particularly one she knows she'll win. "I was upset by the loss of the journal. It shouldn't have happened. That little shit, Spector, should never have gotten hold of it. But I'm not embarrassed by it. I'd like to know if you're telling me that I should be."

Jim readjusts his gaze to the bar. "I know damn well that you don't need my approval. It doesn't stop me from being surprised." 

"By what?" She's being coy, cocking her head while she backs him into a corner. "That I don't dream of fucking you... or that I dream of fucking other people? I'm sure that's what it comes down to. What's it to be, Jim?"

"If I were to take the diary seriously, was there anyone at the PSNI that you didn't want to fuck, Stella? Even the pathologist? Is it all you think about?" 

"You can hardly hold me accountable for my own dreams, Jim. You're the one who read the diary - when you needn't. You came to my hotel room asking to fuck me until you couldn't remember anymore. You know very well how it works. Or are you really just shocked that I might bed another woman?"

"I'm not sure anything about you could shock me anymore, Stella." 

With flourish, Stella finishes her scotch, sliding slowly from her bar stool. Jim can't help but notice the flattering cut of her sweater. Not for the first time that night, he wonders what the hell is wrong with him. She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a billfold. Throwing two bills onto the bar, she fixes him with another intense stare. 

"Drinks are on me, ACC Burns. It's been a pleasure."


	2. Fulfillment

"It doesn't stop me from being surprised..." Jim's words run on an endless loop. Stella wills them away, but they bounce back unheeded. Is he really surprised, or hurt? 

She pushes her thoughts of Jim back while she stands on Tanya Reed-Smith's opulent porch. It occurs to Stella that, for all their closeness, she knows almost nothing about the doctor's private life. At the end of the day, their relationship is a mere few weeks long. The spark feels older, undeniably. There is something different about finding another woman to confide in. An equal, passionate but lacking judgment. The beauty and softness in the face looking back at her, the easiness of the laughter. It's something Jim Burns can simply never understand, by virtue of being a man. 

Stella turns to leave the porch, but the door swings open in a flurry. Tanya stares back at her, her doe eyes soft and questioning. "I almost let you leave." 

Stella nods. "I wouldn't have blamed you." 

The door is opened to allow Stella passage. Reed-Smith doesn't bother commenting further. Its unnecessary. 

Gibson takes in the warm house before her. It's a beautiful town home, furnished in dark oak and bright, plush fabrics. Little touches of personality and whimsy. Tanya's home is just the opposite of her work persona - the cold, calculated and dead replaced by softness, heat, and artistic beauty. Stella thinks back to her own apartment, cluttered and cramped. The female equivalent to a bachelor pad. For a moment, she thinks she could stand to try on Tanya's life for size. 

"Can I take your coat?" Tanya still stands by the door, unsure how to approach the woman in her foyer. The enigma turns to face her, and Tanya reminds herself that Stella is simply a woman badly in need of company. She can relate to that far more easily than the practiced mask she sees placed over the other woman, camouflaged in pencil skirts and silk blouses - a distraction, merely. Stella removes her black car coat, revealing her casual slacks and tight sweater. Tanya smiles while she takes the coat from her friend. 

Again, the space is filled by silence while Tanya walks to her kitchen, Stella following. Stella shuffles, hands in pockets. Reed-Smith took notice of the habit some weeks ago. It's an endearingly childish affectation, performed by the most professional of women. It's charming. Tanya can see her in her periphery while she reaches for two wine glasses in her kitchen cupboard. Stella doesn't watch her, instead fixing her gaze on the marble island in the middle of the kitchen. She studies it, like she studies everything else. 

When the cork pops from the wine bottle, Stella's head snaps up to attention. This time, she watches Tanya's hands while they fiddle with the wine, then the glasses, pouring. Stella thinks her hands are lovely. The lean bones and muscles of a woman whose hands are her livelihood. Finally, she forces herself to speak. "I wanted to thank you for everything you did the other day."

It's Tanya's turn to stare at the marble counter top. In a flash, she's reminded of the events of Paul Spector's death. A breathy call from Stella had brought her to the scene, where she found the DSI drenched in crusted blood, slumped against her car. Tanya wouldn't forget anytime soon the look of far away anger and shock on Stella's face, her chin dotted with the man's blood and her silk shirt plastered with it. Reed-Smith didn't bother asking her colleague if she was alright, only just forcing Stella into the car with gentle hands, then jumping into the driver's side unthinkingly. Stella stared out the window, the mossy forest light hugging her face in a lurid way, turning the dotted blood stains a deep purple. "What about your motorbike?" 

Reed-Smith had shrugged, "I'll have a friend pick it up. It doesn't matter right now." 'You matter right now', both women heard the unspoken words hanging in the car. 

Tanya had stared at Stella's bloodied clothes while the other woman showered. Stella's hotel room was clean and impersonal, and it felt all wrong. Tanya wanted to ask her why her clothes weren't taken as evidence. Why she hadn't gone to the hospital. Meanwhile, she could see the small, white ball sitting in the bottom of the shower beside her. The glass did little to hide Stella, but as with the rest of her life, Stella seemed not to bother with embarrassment or shame. She didn't weep, sob, sputter, or lash out in anger. Stella stared straight forward, and Tanya began to wonder if she should slip from the hotel room and leave her to her own demons. 

"I should have done better, Tanya." Her words were steady above the running water. "Those families... They deserve better than this." 

Tanya hadn't bothered telling her it wasn't her fault. It wouldn't help a single bit. "Yes, they do." 

Reed-Smith ruminates on those last words while she hands Stella her glass of thick, red wine. She holds Stella's gaze with an intensity the other woman is unused to seeing in others. "I did what any friend would do." 

Stella nods, testing her wine. "Well, it meant something to me. I appreciated the company." 

"You know, Stella..." Tanya sets her glass down on the island counter. "What happened between us doesn't bother me. I mean, what happened before." 

"What about that Croydon bit?" Stella quirks a smile for the first time since she walked through the door. Tanya draws in a thick breath. 

"I left Croydon behind a long time ago." Tanya smiles back, genuinely. "I was scared." 

Stella takes a bigger swig of her wine. "Seems to be a recurrent theme."

"Not of you." Reed-Smith shakes her head amiably. "I've liked you from the first. I was scared of myself; Scared of my own limitations." 

Stella makes a show of peeking out the kitchen door. "Where are your girls?"

Tanya raises her eyebrows knowingly, stepping into Stella's personal space. The other woman doesn't move an inch. "They're with their father all week."

In spite of her bold words, Tanya is hesitant and sweet while she leans forward to place a peck on Stella's lips. Her eyes don't close, holding Stella's watery blue gaze for measure. The other woman smiles, an open-mouthed, stunning smile. It occurs to Tanya that she hasn't seen such a smile from Stella - her face softer, sweeter, more carefree. The psychopathy and horror is left behind, leaving a lovely, happy woman in a soft sweater and house trousers. Tanya's drawn into the open smile, falling into Stella's mouth. The kiss is hungry, wet, and fierce, lips twisting and sucking. For the first time, Tanya notices that she stands leaning over Stella, the other woman's back finally coming to rest against the kitchen wall. Stella is small, smaller than Tanya had previously thought. She chuckles. 

"What is it?" Stella's smile is crooked and content. 

"I thought you were taller than me." Tanya looks down at the loafers Stella wears. Hardly her usual fair. 

Stella chuckles, herself. "Trick of the light." She recaptures Tanya's mouth with flourish, her tongue exploring the other woman's mouth enthusiastically. She brings her empty hand up to tangle in Tanya's hair, careful not to spill her wine. Tanya breaks the kiss with a deep, sotto moan. 

"I think we'd best get rid of this." She takes the wine glass from Stella, moving it to join its counterpart on the island. 

"I think we'd best move this to the bedroom." Stella fixes Tanya with the intense stare of five nights earlier, and Tanya suddenly feels she's the only other person on the planet.


	3. Control

Tanya's bedroom is as the rest of her house: Inviting and warm. Stella silently applauds the thick Sherpa comforter on the bed as they come through the door. She's surprised when she feels Reed-Smith's arms snake around her, a palm each on her stomach and collarbone, soothing. Stella gasps, then watches, captivated, as the hands she had admired earlier come up to cup her breasts. Tanya's tanned skin resting against the pearly-white of her sweater is gloriously gorgeous. She can't wait to see it resting against her own pale skin. 

"Am I your first?" Stella whispers, craning her neck to see what she can of Tanya's face. Her efforts are rewarded with a barely-there kiss to her jawbone. 

Tanya chuckles. "I've messed around. I've thought about it... but yes. You're my first. There's something about you that makes me not care what anyone else thinks. Perhaps you can teach me?" 

Stella turns in Tanya's arms, reaching for the buttons of the other woman's cotton blouse. "I happen to love a challenge."

Tanya watches her, wide-eyed, while she divests her of the blouse. It's suddenly become real, and Stella can see the realization on Tanya's face. Stella recaptures her attention with a broad smile and the gaze that began it all. Stella touches, strokes, the other woman's shoulders and neck soothingly, massaging the tense muscles around the base of Tanya's skull. The muscles loosen, and Tanya dips down to lay a gentle kiss on Stella's lips, inviting her to touch farther. The massage continues down Tanya's shoulder blades, then spine, then the small of her back. 

Tanya surprises Stella again, pushing her backwards to sit on the bed. Stella allows her the control, sitting easily. Tanya smiles down at her nervously while she works the front-snap on her own bra. Stella's hands are drawn, magnet-like and eager, to the other woman's breasts, her fingers squeezing into the flesh before she's even thought. The expanse of unmarked skin and darkened nipples is exquisitely lovely. Tanya's light giggle is music to her ears. 

Bold hands are working at the edges of Stella's sweater, pulling the soft fabric insistently. As Stella raises her arms to comply, it occurs to her that she doesn't remember the last time she allowed another person to undress her. She's suddenly aware of a fluttering in her belly as Tanya takes her in, studies her - she also can't recall the last time she's been nervous about gaining a lover's approval. Stella remembers dropping her clothes in a careless heap and stepping into her shower in the aftermath of Paul Spector's death. It's not the first time Tanya's seen her naked, but the other woman's eyes linger hungrily. This is different. 

Stella's bra comes free as effortlessly as her sweater, and she watches the wonder on her lover's face as she stares at her bared torso. Stella stands to meet Tanya and pulls her into a hug. Naked breasts rub enticingly while the women kiss hungrily. Stella's arms snake around Tanya's neck to bring her close in a tight embrace, and Tanya moans at the sensation. Panting in wake of the kiss, the women remove the remainder of their clothing quickly. Tanya watches Stella with unmasked curiosity while the other woman settles herself onto the bed. She's never looked at another woman through the lens of romantic love, and she find herself in rapture. To her, Stella is a chiseled vision, resting herself back into Tanya's pillows and beckoning her forward with a pat to the comforter. 

"I don't think I've ever met someone so beautiful." Tanya whispers in Stella's ear as she settles herself over the smaller woman. She plays with Stella's breasts gently, testing their weight. "I could get used to this." 

Stella smiles drunkenly. "Me, too." 

Tanya drops to lie next to Stella, her nose nuzzling the other woman's brilliant blonde hair. Stella turns to lay a questioning kiss on Tanya's lips while her hands play at the doctor's thighs, asking entry. Her legs fall open unquestioningly, hips wantonly seeking Stella's hand. While Stella soothes her fingers over Tanya's pubic bone, she can feel hesitant fingers playing around her own hips and she moves closer to allow Tanya access. Tanya's fingers pinch at Stella's clit, eliciting a surprised grunt and Stella returns the favor. 

The teasing and stroking goes on for some time, both women gasping, giggling, and grunting in abandonment. Stella watches contentedly while Tanya pants and flies off the edge, her hips bucking up into her hand. She's surprised to find herself following shortly, the pleasure nearly overwhelming. Stella's always felt she has more fulfilling orgasms with other women, and this experience is no different. 

"I didn't want to come, yet!" Tanya giggles and kisses Stella sloppily. "I wanted to taste you." 

Stella shudders at the thought of the act yet to come. "The night is young." 

"Yes, it is." Tanya runs an affectionate hand over Stella's breast. "I can't believe you're going back to London tomorrow." 

Stella stiffens, turning to look at Tanya in surprise. 

Tanya sputters in response. "I'm sorry... Did I say something wrong? It's just... I'm going to miss you." 

Stella considers her answer for a moment, returning Tanya's affectionate touches. "No. Nothing wrong at all. I'd only just considered at that moment how much I'm going to miss you. That doesn't happen to me." 

"I'm not asking for marriage or something, Stella..." Tanya sits up, her brow knit in confusion and hurt. Stella remains reclined in the pillows, so unabashedly naked and confident. "If you don't want to see me again, I can take it."

"That's just the thing." Stella smiles sadly. "I'd like it if you visited me. Often."


	4. Remembrance

"This is like a dream." Tanya's voice is soft in the dimly-lit bathroom. Early morning light begins to drape itself around the room, pooling in through the window. They've been to bed, but certainly haven't been to sleep. Their eyes are tired, but satisfied. Leaning back into Stella's body, Tanya lets the searing hot water in her over sized bathtub wash over her. Her muscles are tight after their adventurous night together. The other woman is soft behind her, holding her around the waist gently. "I don't want to wake up." 

Stella hums. "There are several inquiries floating around regarding this investigation. I'll be back before long, I'm sure." 

"I'm sure." Tanya parrots. "I shall throw myself into work until I see you again. Into the girls; Id' like you to meet them."

"Well," Stella chuckles, "You can always count on me to invest in work. And I'm sure your girls are lovely, but their father might not like me so much." She's fishing, and Tanya knows. 

"He'll get over it." The silent question is answered. She will tell him. 

"Tell me... what made you become a pathologist?" 

"It's rather funny, really." Tanya stares up at the ceiling while she speaks, her hand swirling through the bubbles around her. "I hated med school, but who doesn't? But, I got to my rotation in obstetrics and delivered my first baby. I almost threw up."

Stella laughs out loud behind her. 

"That's not even the worst of it. By the time I finished the delivery, I was so disgruntled... I couldn't even control myself. I watched a nurse hand the baby to the mother and said, "Well, good luck with that". Walked out the door. To this day, I regret what I said to that mother. I realized that I didn't want to spend the rest of my life suffering the feelings of patients. My parents almost died when I told them." 

"I imagine so!" Tanya feels Stella's hands snake into her hair, rubbing her scalp. She moans her appreciation. 

"What brought you to the police force?" Tanya turns as far as she can to see Stella's face. The other woman is placid, meeting her eyes steadily, but Tanya can sense that she's pressed a button. 

"It's a long story. It started when I was sixteen." Stella clears her throat. 

"I want to turn around. I want to see you." Tanya spins herself in the tub, resting against the opposite side. It's a roomy tub, but their legs still fight for space, tangling and twisting. "You don't have to tell me." 

Stella smiles in her mysterious way, the morning sunlight bringing a pleasant orange creamscicle glow to her features. "But you told me." 

"I'm listening." Tanya smiles indulgently, her toe absently rubbing the outside of Stella's thigh. 

"Once upon a time..." Stella's smile dissolves. "A man thought he could take everything from me by tying me down and forcing me." 

"Oh my god." Tanya can't help herself, but Stella seems not to have noticed her interjection. 

"He was our next door neighbor when I was sixteen. He found out that my father was having an affair with his wife, and it spun him into a rage. My mother, thank God, was out of town at a work conference. The neighbor, Jack was his name... He shot his wife while she slept in their bed. My father ran downstairs and outside when he heard the shot. He was gunned down in our front yard. This was thirty years ago, so we only had the one phone in our house. I ran downstairs to call the police. That's where he found me. Used my own phone cord to tie my hands. He was spouting on about how I'd give him what my father had taken from him. That I'd been teasing him all year. He was justifying his actions, telling me about how I was asking for it, all while unbuttoning my pajamas. I didn't know what to do but just lie still, and that angered him. He started slapping at my face, my breasts. That's when the police burst in." 

Tanya sighs in relief. "Thank God." 

"My father meant a lot to me. It hit me hard. It didn't make me a victim so much as it solidified my path. Women dating other women... It suddenly made sense. I thought... How can one date men when one man took away that fundamental trust? I have sex with men, because I like it. But, could I bring myself to sleep beside a man every night for the rest of my life? I honestly don't know. I haven't tried. After this happened, I knew that I needed to help. For every woman who's been tied down and forced, beaten, raped, killed. I needed to help." 

"Thank you for telling me." Tanya captures Stella's gaze, still serene and open. 

"I don't tell people, because I don't want them to use what happened to me as an explanation for who I am. Or as an excuse for my behavior."

"For what behavior?" Tanya's eyebrows come up. "I've never seen you behave as anything less than professional. Well, outside of my bed." She teases, lightening the heavy air in the room. 

"I've spent so much of my career dedicating time to victims, sharing in their experiences through interviews. So many of them... have been blamed for what happened to them. One way or another, someone finds a fault in their appearance, in how they walk, or speak. Something they claim invited the attack. It causes fear and doubt from the victim, years down the line. If Jim Burns knew what happened to me... would I stop being the professional he trusts and assume the role of the damaged woman? Would he be able to see beyond the sixteen year old who wore short shorts and caught the attention of the terrible man next door? Would he then find it odd that I controlled him so fully in bed?"

The surprise on Tanya's face is to be expected. "You slept with Jim Burns?" 

Stella's smile is crooked. "Many years ago. It's behind me... I'm afraid it's not behind him."


	5. Resilience

Annie Brawley is waiting when Stella reaches her office, nervously pacing around the doorway. "Annie! You're looking well." 

Stella means it. The younger woman's finished haircut and careful makeup are chic and beautiful. Any stranger walking past her on the street would never guess what happened to the poised woman standing by her door. 

Annie's smile still doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Thank you. I heard you're headed back to London today." 

"Not until this evening. Please, have a seat." Stella gestures to the chairs in front of her desk. Instead of sitting behind her desk, though, she seats herself beside the other woman, smiling. "What can I do for you?" 

"I came to thank you, for everything." Annie pauses for a beat. "And to tell you that I'm going to London."

Stella says nothing, waiting for Annie to continue. The younger woman looks about to burst, and Stella spies the black hairband still wrapped around her slender wrist. 

"There's nothing here for me anymore. Too many people know. I want to talk with my family, but they won't. They won't come out and say it, but I can see it on their faces... they're sure it's my fault. They'll never see Joe again, and it's my fault." 

Stella pats the younger woman's jaw affectionately. "I don't have to tell you that it's not your fault, Annie." 

The tears smear Annie's mascara as they spill over her cheeks. "I know it... But when so many people think otherwise, how can I be sure I'm right?" 

"Because you have to trust yourself before all others. Love yourself before all others." Stella feels tears well up in her own eyes, and swallows them down. 

"I don't want to overstep, but..." The younger woman stutters. "Something like this has happened to you once, didn't it?" 

"Yes." Stella states it, but doesn't elaborate. 

Annie nods. "I thought so, what with the hairband. I just... It makes me feel like I'll be OK." 

"You will be OK." Stella whispers, while Annie begins swiping at the tear tracks on her face. "You ARE OK."

"I was thinking about the police force." Annie stands. "I feel like... I don't know. Like I've been called. Like I can do something to take control... make sense of this mess. And there are so many out there like me. " 

At once, Stella sees more of herself in the younger woman than she'd like. She nods her approval and rises to meet her. "You call me if you need anything. Anything at all." 

The hug between the two women is genuine and tight. Stella runs a hand over the back of Annie's head, affectionate and encouraging. Annie's eyes are brimming with tears again when she pulls away and turns. She hesitates at the door, though, turning back to Stella. 

"Will there ever be a moment that I don't think about it?" 

"Yes." Stella nods. "It'll fade away from your daily thoughts. But you'll never forget." She watches Annie go, knowing all too well what her life may hold, and unsure whether she likes what she sees.


	6. Advancement

"Ma'am?" Stella turns at the soft voice floating in from the hallway. She's pleasantly surprised to find Dani Ferrington leaning against her doorway. The woman is dressed casually, in jeans and a sweater; obviously off-duty. Stella finds herself somewhat flattered that anyone would bother to take their personal time to wish her goodbye. 

"I guess this is it?" Stella sends a sad smile in Dani's direction, then returns to packing the box perched upon her temporary desk. The non-permanence of her time in Belfast has begun to bother her, the loose ends niggling at her in unpleasant ways. With every item placed in the box, she's far more sure that Belfast won't be leaving her for quite some time. 

"Yes, Ma'am." Dani fidgets in her own peculiar way, and Stella thinks she'll miss her. "I wanted to thank you. For everything." 

"I'm afraid you did more for me, Dani." Stella comes around the desk to devote herself to the conversation. "No need for 'Ma'am' anymore. Just Stella."

Dani nods nervously. "Actually, I've just been told I'm being considered for advancement. That your letter of recommendation was compelling - In the extreme." 

Stella had hoped she would be long out of Belfast before Dani heard of her letter. "I needed someone to trust, and you were undeniably there. Undeniably competent. You'll go far, Dani." 

"Will we be seeing you again?" Dani can hear the goodbye in Stella's tone. She doesn't want it to be goodbye.

Stella nods. "There are several open inquiries in the matter of Paul Spector and his death. I'm certain I'll be back before long at all. "

Both women are startled by a heavy-handed knock on the hollow office door frame. Matt Eastwood's poker face greets them, though Stella is glad to see that he's loosened up over the last couple days. The awkwardness and tension no longer necessary or prudent, his shoulders sit relaxed, and a half-smile is perched upon his face. 

"You ready?" He asks patiently, pointing to the growing pile of Stella's things in the corner. "I'm your ride to the airport. Certain PC's have the day off." He ribs Dani. 

"Yes. I think I've got everything." Stella opens the desk drawer, checking one last time for any straggling trinket. Bare of her nest of papers and oddities, the office is sterile and boring. She feels a certain sadness in her chest. "Let's go." 

Without mention, Dani goes to the pile of boxes and dry cleaning bags in the corner. Between the three of them, the pile is walked to Eastwood's car. The women say one last goodbye amidst a light, misty drizzle. Dani feels near tears while she hugs Stella with an abandon the Superintendent finds wrenching, but holds them back while Eastwood is watching. Stella settles into the passenger side of the compact car with a sigh. She's surprised Jim didn't show his face, and she's suddenly guilty over their conversation the night before. The angry words she'd spoken aren't the words she wants to leave him with.

When Eastwood settles into the driver's side, she reminds him, "I need to stop by the hotel for the rest of my things. I'm sorry to make you play chauffeur." 

"I don't mind." He flashes a glace in her direction while they wait for the gates of the lot to open. "I actually wanted some alone time with you." 

'O, Lord...' Stella thinks, almost chuckles. She'd been hoping to make it out of Belfast without having another hopelessly awkward conversation with Eastwood. 

"Why's that?" She whispers, wary. 

"I think I owe you an apology." He's quiet for a moment, shifting the car and pulling out of the lot. "I allowed my opinions of Jim to taint my opinion of you." 

Stella's intrigued. "How so?" 

"It's not exactly news that Burns and I don't see eye to eye - we've never really gotten along well. I thought he was trying to set me up when he placed me into the task force. More importantly, I assumed YOU were part of the set up. I realize differently, and I appreciate your professionalism." 

"Why didn't you disclose my relationship with Olsen to Reed-Smith?" Stella's tired of beating around the bush. 

Matt chuckles. "I think you deserve better than to become the next piece of gossip fodder at the PSNI. Unfortunately, I don't have any control over that bastard Ned Callan. What you do in your time is your business." 

"You didn't seem to think so at the time. Or a few days ago, for that matter." She challenges him. In the dim evening light, his features are mostly unreadable. "Why the change?" 

"Maybe I'm just a jealous son of a bitch, Stella." He smiles broadly, teasing her. "I've never met someone like you. I still appreciate how well you took care of me, before. I won't forget it. You're something special - everyone is more than aware." 

Stella chuffs. "Is that so?" 

"You should know. I've opened a formal complaint against ACC Burns in the matter of Morgan and Aaron Monroe. I don't think it'll be necessary, but you may be asked to testify at the inquiry." 

Stella's mind reels a bit. She's leaving her own personal disaster behind, but Jim will have a mess to clean up for some time, and locals with long memories. She feels for him, in spite of his poor choices. 

"We all make mistakes," Matt says while he shifts the car again, and Stella glides with the stop-start motion. He looks to her in the dim light. "Someone very smart once said that to me."

 

END.


End file.
